


Tell the World I'm Coming Home

by orphan_account



Category: Macdonald Hall - Gordon Korman
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Future Fic, Kissing, M/M, Teaching, Yuletide, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boots has a pretty good life, but with one big problem: he hasn't seen Bruno in ten years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell the World I'm Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [throughadoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughadoor/gifts).



> A little treat for you! I also love Bruno/Boots and the part of your request asking for a slashy post-school story called to me.

Life hadn't gone exactly the way Boots had planned, but that was okay. After finishing second behind Elmer Drimsdale at Macdonald Hall, he went on to four great years at McGill. He got a nice girlfriend, then a nice boyfriend. He had fun at uni, though he didn't have as many wacky adventures. Boots tried getting together with the old gang for a while, but people grew and moved on and that was okay, too. Now he mostly stayed in touch through Facebook, and it was nice seeing Sidney Rampulsky's accident-prone toddler and Cathy Burton's new dirt bike. 

Bruno Walton had fallen off the face of the planet, but what could you do? Boots had been mad at him for a long time for that, but ten years was an awfully long time to hold a grudge, and he'd mostly gotten over that, too. 

If someone had asked his seventeen-year-old self where he'd be in ten years, he probably would have thought he'd be best buddies with Bruno still. And he definitely wouldn't have thought he'd be the youngest headmaster Macdonald Hall had ever had.

The Fish's retirement party had been sad, but Boots looked forward to being in charge and The Fish looked forward to winters in Boca, so really it was all for the best. But because of the transition, Boots hadn't been in charge of hiring the new staff. Which is how Headmaster Melvin O'Neal, formerly popular English teacher and swim coach Melvin O'Neal, got hit with a bombshell: Bruno Walton was returning to the Hall as the new Biology teacher starting in the fall.

"I knew you'd be happy," The Fish told him, beaming and interpreting Boots's shock as something else. "That's why we hid the hiring process from you. We wanted it to be a surprise."

"I am surprised," Boots agreed.

*

The first day of school, Boots made his announcements to the assembled students and received a big round of applause. After the assembly, he introduced himself to the new faculty, including Bruno, who he was dismayed to see looked amazing, tanned and happy and in shape. Wherever he'd been the last ten years, he'd definitely been taking care of himself. It just brought back all the feelings Boots had repressed his last two years at Mac Hall, when he was trying not to show that the friendship he felt for Bruno had turned into something more. The last thing Boots ever wanted was to jeopardize his friendship with Bruno, and if that included pretending his all-encompassing, universe-sized crush didn't exist so they could still be best friends, then that was the way it had to be.

That was probably another reason things hurt so much when Bruno cut off contact.

"Hello, Mr. Walton," Boots greeted frostily. "I hope we have a productive academic year."

"Hey." Bruno smiled sheepishly and ran his fingers through his dark hair. The light caught a couple of strands of silver mixed through, which somehow made him even more attractive. Being professional was not easy. "Do you still go by Boots, or are you Melvin exclusively now?"

He still went by Boots. "You can call me Mr. O'Neal. Or Headmaster, if you prefer."

Bruno's face fell. "Ah," he said. "Nice seeing you, Headmaster." Then he walked off to speak with some of the other teachers.

Boots knew that whatever happened with Bruno hadn't been his fault, so why did he feel so shitty?

*

Being headmaster kept Boots busy. There were always financial fires to put out, or literal fires to put out. There were the first-year boys who were away from home for the first time and homesick for Vancouver or Calgary or Saskatoon or wherever. He also had to act as backup to the school counselor, lending a sympathetic ear to academic and typical teenage problems, and sometimes he also had to send girls found after curfew back to Miss Scrimmage's tactfully enough that no 90-year-old blind and deaf headmistress threatened him with a shotgun.

He was happy for all the distraction. Other than the teachers who'd been his friends when he was still a teacher, the teachers existed in one bubble and he existed in another. Sure, sometimes their paths crossed when he needed to sit in on a class or check a lesson plan, but mostly he got to keep to the administrative side of things. Boots tried telling himself that going home to his big empty house at the end of the night was okay because the big empty house was in the middle of campus, so he wasn't really alone. He was content convincing himself that he wasn't lonely and, even while avoiding Bruno as much as possible, everything was fine.

Which is why he wasn't prepared the night all the frogs were freed from the biology labs.

The frogs got absolutely everywhere, and every time Boots spotted another one of the buggers, he was reminded of the budget and how much live frogs cost per pop. Students found frogs in their beds. Librarians found frogs in the books. Then the frogs got into the kitchens and half a month's pantry staples had to be discarded for contamination. It was a disaster on every possible level, and Boots knew exactly who was behind it.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. O'Neal?" Bruno came into Boots's office and sat down. He was technically meeting the dress code, but his rumpled brown corduroy jacket and loosened tie reminded Boots so much of a younger Bruno that he had to close his eyes briefly.

Boots slid a ledger over to Bruno. "Yes, I've called you here because of the frog incident."

Bruno looked over Boots's paperwork and rolled his eyes. "Kids love hazing new teachers," he said. "The seniors did some research on me, because of course they did, and they turned up the time I saved all the earthworms from dissection. I guess this was their way of one-upping me."

"So you didn't encourage this?" Boots asked. He had to admit, he hadn't been expecting that, but Bruno could always be counted on to be surprising.

"God, no!" Bruno said. He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Was I such a little shit when I was a kid? Wait, don't answer that. It won't happen again. I'm already having better locks installed in the labs. I'm really sorry, Boots. Er, Mr. O'Neal."

Boots nodded. "It's all right," he said. "You're not the first new teacher to get cold water dumped on them. My first week they literally dumped cold water on me."

Bruno sighed. "You know, I love teaching, but some days."

"Some days," Boots agreed.

"Am I dismissed? Fifth period's about to begin and I've got to hightail it across campus if I want to be there before someone breaks a microscope," Bruno said.

"Yes," Boots said. "Thank you for explaining."

"No problem." Bruno graced him with a brilliant smile. "Maybe we can do this again under less frog-filled circumstances."

Boots didn't say anything, and Bruno's smile faded just a little as he let himself out.

*

That Saturday was Boots's day off duty. Mr. Schubert, the Geometry and Calculus teacher, was his second-in-command and basically ordered Boots to have a good time. He'd been Boots's math teacher, too, and it was always so weird when he realized some people who used to teach him now worked for him.

Boots was still pondering this weirdness when he met up with some of the younger staff at the only pub in Chutney open past 10pm. Alyssa Jing, Latin and Greek, had saved him a seat in between Bruno and her. She was talking animatedly with Bruno, who was laughing with his head thrown back. They would make a cute couple, Boots thought, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Bruno was telling me you two were _roommates_ ," Alyssa said. "I knew you were both alums and you're obviously about the same age, but I didn't know you'd lived together."

"For seven years," Boots confirmed. "Well, six and a half."

Alyssa shook her head. "It feels like you Mac Hall kids never leave completely."

"Sometimes we try," Bruno said, "but as Mr. O'Neal and I prove, we often fail. It's not always a bad thing."

" _Mr. O'Neal_ ," Alyssa said mockingly. "Knock it off, Bruno. He's just Boots here."

"Fine. Me and Boots, then." He smiled at Boots wryly, then leaped to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth to shout at all the teachers. "I've got the first round, everyone! Got to spend that big teacher salary!" He sat back down and nudged Boots with his shoulder.

Boots grinned despite himself.

*

Four rounds later, Boots was pink in the face. He knew it because everyone kept teasing him, but he didn't care. It felt like old times only with added alcohol, and that certainly wasn't anything to complain about.

Bruno spent the whole night talking to Boots, trying to make him laugh and reminding him of old pranks the two of them had pulled. It was entirely too attractive and, even with all of Boots's unanswered questions still going unanswered, those boarding school hormones came surging back in no time. Boots, in a moment of drunken bravery, let his hand fall off the table and land on Bruno's knee, squeezing it so Bruno would know it was deliberate. It was the most successful move Boots had, which clearly wasn't saying a lot.

"Oh," Bruno said. He bit his lip and put Boots's hand back on the table. Boots's face felt even warmer; this was exactly the kind of thing he'd totally avoided back when they were kids and here he was ruining it within a week. But then Bruno leaned in and said, "You don't know how hard it was to do that. I know you're only making a move because you're drunk and don't really want me, but God, do I wish that weren't the case. You don't even know, Boots."

When Boots went home, he jacked off replaying Bruno's words until he fell asleep in a sticky, happy drunk mess.

*

The next morning Boots was embarrassed, but he was sure Bruno's words weren't just his imagination. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and was just about to sit down to breakfast and precious, precious coffee when his doorbell rang.

Boots took a look at himself in the mirror. His hair was wet and he was wearing ugly plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt that read "Swimmers Do It When It's Wet," which wasn't too professional, but hey, anyone coming to the headmaster's house on a Sunday morning got what they got. 

Bruno barged into Boots's house. "I owe you an explanation," he said instead of "hi" or "good morning."

"Uh," Boots said.

"I really understand why you were so mad. If I were you, I'd never have spoken to me again," Bruno said.

"I almost didn't," Boots admitted. "And you're right; you do owe me an explanation."

Bruno sighed. "The last few years we were at the Hall, I was hiding a huge secret and I just knew that I couldn't keep up the hiding. It was killing me inside. So, I decided to cut myself off from everyone and try to forget that part of my life. I deferred college and bummed around South America for a year, which my parents _loved_."

"I can imagine," Boots murmured. He pulled out a seat at his kitchen table and pushed Bruno into it, then poured them both coffee. Bruno put about a cup's worth of sugar into his.

"Then I did go to school, only I was still having that crisis, so I kind of -- and please, pardon my French -- fucked my brains out. I was having a lot of meaningless sex, is what I'm saying."

Boots swallowed. "I see."

"But I met new people and tried dating, too, only no one really lived up to this unreachable standard I had, so I stayed single. I also studied my ass off and found out that I _loved_ science. Then I started teaching, and I loved that, too. By the time I tried fixing what an ass I'd been as a teenager, it was a year ago, and now I'm here. And I'm so sorry, Boots. I never should have done that."

"You never should have done that," Boots confirmed. "I don't know what kind of crisis you were having, but whatever it was, it wasn't worth our friendship. I could have helped you." He looked down and sighed at his coffee cup. "I was so fucking mad at you, Bruno Walton."

"Which is ironic," Bruno said, "because all I was trying to do was hide being in love with you." Boots looked up. "And now you hate me, unless you're drunk."

"I don't hate you," Boots said. He nearly hit himself in the forehead. "I hate both of our teenage selves for being so obtuse. I hate all the time we wasted."

Bruno blinked. "What?"

Boots stood and tugged Bruno up. "I didn't hit on you because I was drunk," he said. "I hit on you because you're _you_ , and I've found you irresistible since I was sixteen-years-old." Then Boots kissed Bruno, something he'd been dying to do for twelve years. He looped his arms around Bruno's neck while Bruno wrapped his arms around Boots's waist, and the kissing went on for a pretty long time. When they broke apart, Boots's face burned a little from Bruno's stubble and they were both out of breath.

"Oh," Bruno said.

"Yeah," Boots said. "Oh. Anyway, I'm sober now. Do you want to make up for lost time?"

"God, yes," Bruno replied.

Boots pulled Bruno into the bedroom, and a few months later Boots's big empty house was still big, but not so empty.


End file.
